


Alone

by reaping_mae



Series: Watched [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Christmas, Christmas Decorations, Horror, Hurt Peter Parker, Irondad, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Can't Thermoregulate, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Songfic, basically this is in that one dream world where everything is perfect that most fanfics adopt, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27791338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reaping_mae/pseuds/reaping_mae
Summary: Peter Parker wakes up alone in the Avengers Compound's medbay, with a pair of fuzzy socks and the warning of a blizzard raging on outside. A note from Tony tells Peter he had business to deal with and the other Avengers were sent on an assignment while Peter was asleep, so he will be by himself until Tony gets back later that night.But what happens when it turns out Peter was never actually left alone?
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Watched [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2088921
Comments: 24
Kudos: 122





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

> A few setting notes before you read since the MCU is honestly wack af  
> \- if you read tags, you will note this is not IW and Endgame compliant  
> \- Tony sold the tower just like he was planning to in SM:HC  
> -This honestly could take place anytime after SM:HC  
> -I wrote all of this in one sitting without stopping at all so uh if it reads wack im so sorry lol
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Peter Parker enjoyed the solace of being alone. 

Not alone as in the type of feeling one gets when depressed, or the feeling as though they are the only one in the world with nobody to help them recover from their sadness. No, the ‘alone’ Peter enjoyed was in moments of peace and quiet; the rare instants that allowed Peter to breathe and close his eyes, feel the stillness of the air around him and hum or make quiet remarks aloud to himself without anyone around to hear.

Distant, repetitive beeps made themselves known to Peter’s fuzzy brain. He strained himself, trying to identify where the noises were coming from. The left? No, the right. Behind him! That was where the beeping was coming from. Behind him. He jostled his arm in turning to lay on his side, his joints stiff and hard to move. Oh, but the pillows were so comfortable, and his bed was so warm. He didn’t want to wake up for school yet.

Peter’s eyes shot open. He didn’t remember falling asleep last night. Despite the stiffness of his arms, he pushed himself into an upright position. His senses immediately rushed back to him, his brain finally waking up. A chill ran down Peter’s spine, his shoulders hunching as he drew the thick blankets laying over his legs around his body. He looked for any sign of where he was, his left arm subconsciously moving to pull the EKG’s electrodes off of his chest. On the far wall opposite of him, Peter spotted the ‘Avengers’ symbol carved into the white, smooth wall. Upon further inspection, Peter realized he was in the compound Medbay.

Peter’s brows furrowed. _‘The Medbay? What am I doing here?’_

His eyes landed on a small notecard left on the stand beside his bed. Moving slowly, he picked up the paper and read its contents:

_“Hey, Pete._

_If you’re reading this, I’m probably not back yet. Just had to run to the Manhattan tower; buying it back from the guys who I sold it to is proving to be a total shitshow. Not sure how long I’ll be gone for, but I promise I’ll be back later tonight. I’ll also pick up some pizza from that place you really like over in Brooklyn. Yes, don’t worry, I’ll get pineapple and olives on yours. Only God knows why you enjoy that._

_Anyway, I found you yesterday in the lobby of Building C. You were all cold and shiver-y. (Is that a word? I dunno, I didn’t pay attention in my english classes.) Turns out, the heater in your suit broke agai-”_

Peter whipped his head towards the entrance of the Medbay. He could have sworn he had just heard someone walking. The automatic doors stared back, almost intimidating him. Peter waited for them to slide open, for someone to walk in and go about their business. A strange feeling of weariness settled in his gut when nobody appeared. ‘ _Hm, weird.’_ Peter shook his head, figuring his brain must still be waking up, and went back to reading the card.

_“Turns out, the heater in your suit broke again and you got stuck in the storm outside. CNN is saying there's a bomb cyclone hitting NY… weather is gonna get real bad. Seriously kid, you gotta start telling me when things like that happen. I’ll program your A.I. to send reports to FRIDAY next time a problem comes up. I remembered what Banner and Dr. Cho told me to do last time you had a thermoreg. Issue so I just got Rhodey to help me bring you over to the Medbay after you passed out. Or started hibernating? I don’t know, it’s weird to say that. This whole thing is weird. You’re weird. Stop._

_Don’t worry about May or school, I called her and she said she would be able to drive up here by tomorrow morning at the latest. As far as your school knows, you caught a nasty cold from the weather._

_In the meantime, feel free to start decorating any of the rooms. If you feel up to it, of course. I know you could never turn down a good Christmas decorating sesh. See you in a bit, Alright? And wear some damn socks. Your toes will turn blue with how often you walk around barefoot._

_-Tony_

_P.S. - call me and the team once you’re awake, will you? The lot of them went to check out something happening down in Miami. No, you’re not missing anything. It’s just a steakout to gather some info. You have our numbers._

Well, that explains that. Peter cracked his knuckles and rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them. Slowly, he moved the blankets aside and steadied himself on the cold tiled floors of the room. Tony was right, the ground was freezing. Glancing back at the bed’s side table, Peter spotted his phone, earbuds, and a pair of fuzzy socks (most likely left by the billionaire himself). A small digital clock told him in bold blue numbers that it was 2:34 in the afternoon.

Peter slid the socks on his feet, taking notice he was wearing his favorite flannel pyjama bottoms. Thankful for the pant’s designers gracefully adding pockets, he pushed his phone and earbuds in. With one final sweep of the room to check if there was anything he missed to see, Peter nodded, and headed through the Medbay’s doors.

The fluorescent lights above Peter gave him a headache as he made his way down the Medical Wing’s hallway. He rubbed his temples, willing it away, and pressed on the ‘up’ button of the elevator. Peter stepped inside and clicked the button with the Avengers logo on it, waiting for Friday to scan him and approve sending him up to the private floor. As he waited for the elevator to take him up, Peter studied the intricate mahogany carvings on the ceiling, the pattern twisting down into a border around steel panels that made up the walls of the elevator. 

Soon, Peter heard a small ‘ding’ signifying he had arrived. Once the doors slid open, Peter padded his way into the main living quarters of the Avengers compound.

He breathed a sigh of relief to be out of the bright lighting and sterile smelling hallways. Before he could move any further, the floor-to-ceiling windows caught his eye. More particularly, what he saw outside of them. Which was next to nothing. Literally. It was snowing so hard outside Peter could barely make out the other buildings on the Avengers campus in the distance. White painted the scene before him for as far as he could see, which to be fair, wasn’t very far. That unsettling feeling from earlier settled back into his gut, and he shivered. Peter wrapped his arms around himself and turned away from the windows. 

He swiped a fluffy blanket laying over the arm of the couch and wrapped it around himself, making his way towards the kitchen island where he spotted a plethora of Christmas decorations. Excitedly, Peter observed the contents of the table: lights ranging in colors from warm white, cool white, even multicolored. Then boxes upon boxes of glimmering gold and silver tinsel. Classic red and white swirled candy canes sat untouched in their respective packaging, and even a few mistletoe could be spotted peeking out from the bottom of the pile. Peter smiled, excited to start decorating. The only question on his mind: _‘_ _Where do I start?’_

* * *

Arms full of tinsel and warm Christmas lights scattered across the living room floor, Peter skipped over to the corner of the room where Tony’s old record player sat, which had just finished playing side A of Bing Crosby’s _‘_ _Christmas Classics’_ _._ Peter flipped the vinyl and adjusted the volume, side B beginning to play ‘Walking in a Winter Wonderland’.

> _“Sleigh Bells ring,_
> 
> _Are you listening?_ _”_

Before continuing his work, Peter studied the room before him. Glittering red and green lights strung around the kitchen walls, gold tinsel reflecting the light from its spot hanging off the cabinets. A few previously empty jars now sat full to the brim of candy canes on the black granite countertops, and a few mini fake Christmas trees decorated the corners useless counter space. 

In the living room, silver tinsel draped over the mantle of the fireplace and sparkled in the light of the warm white bulbs from the lights hanging over the border of the windows to the far right of the room. Mistletoe hung from the doorway to the left, the dark hallway beyond that yet to be touched by Peter’s Christmas spirit.

> _"In the lane,_
> 
> _Snow is glistening.”_

A loud _‘BANG_ _!’_ drew Peter’s attention to the window, the noise scaring him enough to drop the tinsel in his hands. He stepped over tangled lumps of lights and spare batteries for Santa displays, moving towards the widow. Peter squinted his eyes, attempting to see past the blinding white flurries as the storm outside raged on. He could just barely make out the figures of Buildings A and B, which could only be accessed by driving or walking to the private buildings C and D, both of which were connected.

The glass fogged from Peter’s breath, the boy moving to swipe at it with his sleeve. Nothing could be seen through the window. No alarms were ringing, no red flashing lights. It was impossible for anyone to be outside at this point, the bomb cyclone most definitely keeping everyone inside. Had he imagined the noise? 

Peter sighed and rubbed his eyes. It was only 4:46PM, and the light coming through the windows had begun to fade. The sun always set so early in the winter months. Peter was tired, his hands and feet felt chilled and the tips of his fingers had begun to turn pink. He huffed, tucking his hands under his arms and stepping over the discarded decorations. He would get back to decorating, but first he needed to grab another hoodie, maybe a pair of gloves. Despite having already gone through a few winters with his mutated genes, he still struggles to remember that his body doesn’t shiver to warm itself up. 

Walking down the hallway to the bedrooms, Peter fought off the feeling that something wasn’t right. Just like earlier, he once again felt unsettled, the padding of his feet on glazed concrete floors and the echo of Christmas music from the other room being the only noise he could hear. Maybe it was just because he knew he was alone in the building. Yeah, that’s it. It was just strange to be the only person walking around in the building. _‘_ _That’s why I feel off.’_ Peter told himself.

> “ _A beautiful sight,_
> 
> _We’re happy tonight,_
> 
> _Walking in a winter wonderland.”_

Before Peter had the chance to open the door to his room, he caught movement from the corner of his eye. His head swiveled to the right, Peter just catching a blur of movement pass down the hallway that turned to more rooms. “Hello?” Peter called. _‘Are the others back from their mission early?’_

Quietly, Peter stepped away from his door and crept down the hall where he had spotted whatever he had just seen. Hugging the wall, Peter peered around the corner to spot the blur. The hallway was empty. “FRIDAY?” Peter called to the A.I., “Are the Avengers back from their mission?”

“No Peter,” FRIDAY informed him, “It appears the team is currently in the middle of their assignment.”

Peter stared down the hall, the vacancy of the building creeping him out. “Uhm, FRIDAY? Could you please scan Buildings C and D to see if anyone is, uh, here? With me? Like, is there anyone here besides me?” Peter quietly prayed FRIDAY would come back with a positive answer. That the A.I. would tell him Tony was back early from Manhattan, or an employee from the main buildings had gotten stuck in here with Peter and can’t leave because of the storm. What Peter wasn’t expecting was for FRIDAY to not respond at all. “FRIDAY?” Peter tried again. Nothing. 

The only sound of life was the music from the other room, barely able to be heard from the distance but recognizable nonetheless.

> “ _Gone away is the blue bird._
> 
> _Here to stay is the new bird._
> 
> _He sings a love song as we go along._
> 
> _W_ _alking in a winter wonderland.”_

The song was barely even a minute in, Peter was fine. No time had passed at all, right? He was psyching himself out. _‘Breathe, Peter. It’s nothing. It’s fine, I’m fine.’_ Peter told himself as he took a deep breath, wiping once again at his eyes. _‘I’m just getting sleepy. Get a jacket.’_ Peter bit his lip and hesitantly turned away from the hallway, his back tingling with the uncomfortable feeling that someone, or something, was watching him. ‘ _Jeez, it’s cold.’_

As he rounded the corner, Peter walked over to the thermostat with the intention of turning the heat up. He paused when he realized the monitor was off, the display dark and without previewing the temperature. Before he had the chance to try turning it back on, the black blur caught his eye again, this time seen at the end of the hall and in the living room.

No, No Peter was not crazy. He saw it and swore on his life. His heart now pounding with adrenaline, Peter silently padded his way to the living room, ready for whatever came his way. Staring back at him was Christmas decorations of all sorts, shining and twinkling, and the gramophone singing:

> _"_ _In the meadow we can build a snowman,_
> 
> _We’ll pretend that he is Parson Brown.”_

Then, the room went dark. Every possible light keeping the room bright had lost power, and Peter could feel his breathing begin to pick up. Short, labored breaths made themselves known as small puffs of air proved the room to have dipped in temperature. The only source of light was from the fire Peter had lit a while ago amidst his decorating. The fire cast grand shadows up the walls of the room, Peter’s shadow stretching so far up it reached the ceiling. The fire crackled, and he whipped his head toward the noise. Right as he spotted the orange flames, the fire died completely, shrouding him in darkness and leaving the only source of heat left as the glowing embers that were beginning to fade.

> _“He’ll say ‘Are you Married?’_
> 
> _We’ll say, “No man,_
> 
> _But you can do the job while you’re in town.”_

_“Maybe the storm cut off the power?”_ Peter’s eyes widened. “ _And- and we ran out of gas for the fire.”_ He was lying to himself. He knew the fireplace here didn’t use gas. Peter stepped toward the stone fireplace, thinking to inspect it.

> _"Later on, w_ _e’ll conspire.”_

Peter knelt, holding his hand close to the embers in an attempt to warm his fingers.

> _“As we dream by the fire.”_

The wooden floorboard in the kitchen creaked, and Peter spun around. There in the shadows, a tall, slim figure sat unmoving.

“What do you want.” Peter rose from his crouched position on the floor. His joints whined in protest. The man in the kitchen made no noise. “I asked you, what do you want.” Peter spoke louder, punctuating each word with as much power he could muster.

The figure dove for the hall, moving at an incredible speed. Peter began running after it. He chased it down the maze of hallways, moving as fast as he could. Every light in the building seemed to have gone dark. Even the emergency exit lights were off. Peter huffed, recognizing the hall to turn into one of the second living spaces. He slowed to a stop, scanning the room in an attempt to find the man. Shadows on the walls mocked him, the regret of losing sight of the figure beginning to set in.

Before he knew it, Peter had been knocked on the floor, face down and against the far wall. He had been kicked from behind. He sat up in a rush and double tapped his wrists together, the movement he makes for his nanotech web shooters to form. Only, they didn’t form. Peter tried again and whirled around to face the figure, the lack of his web shooters becoming an issue. _‘Shit_ _,'_ Peter thought, as he realized they were most likely with his suit down in the Medbay. _‘_ _Okay, well at least I now have an objective other than Catch That Freaky Ass Shadow-Man. Objective #2: get my web shooters.’_

Peter lunged back across the room, jumping so his hand would stick to the ceiling and give him leverage as he tried to land on the man. The figure had moved back to the hallway too fast, though, and Peter landed on the floor. He immediately stood back up and began running again, his speed slower than before as his legs were beginning to stiffen from the cold. _‘C’mon, Peter.’_

The man stopped in the middle of the hallway to throw a punch, Peter ducking under the figure’s swing and sliding behind him, where he managed to land a solid kick to the man’s lower back. Peter then stepped to send another kick to the man’s side, but before he could, the foot keeping him standing was swept off the ground and Peter landed on his back with a hard thud.

The record in the other room had begun skipping.

> _"To face unafraid,_
> 
> _The plans that we have made,”_

“Oh, you-” Peter mumbled, rolling back to his feet and running after the shadow-man once again, back into the main living room.

It had gotten so cold Peter’s breath was coming out in thick clouds, and if he had the time to look close enough, frost was forming on the window’s edges. Outside the wind howled, and the storm raged on. Thick clumps of snow rained down on the Avengers campus, which had become darkened in the abyss of snow and dense clouds hiding the moon. The inky black night brought along a bitter chill with it, creeping into the living room which had felt so warm and inviting only mere minutes ago. 

Peter spotted the man near the gramophone. “Alright, bud.” Peter panted in an attempt for humour. “I'm gonna ask you one more time: What. The hell. Do you want?” 

The figure tilted its head.

> _“To face unafraid,_
> 
> _The plans that we have made,”_

“So you’re the silent and mysterious type? Got it.” Peter flexed his fingers, bent his knees, and jumped for the ceiling. He clung on and flipped to move for the fireplace, grabbing the firestoker and swinging it at the man. The figure moved too fast, though, and managed to grab Peter’s wrist. He heard the clang of the firestoker as he dropped it and was tugged from the ceiling. 

The contact sent chills down Peter’s spine, fear pooling in his stomach. Whatever had just grabbed him… it didn’t feel human. Not by a long shot. The hand the figure had used to tug on his wrist felt as though they were claws, digging into Peter’s flesh and ripping his skin. His wrist stung from the contact, but when he sent his left hand to clutch his wrist, the only thing he felt was that it was sore. No tacky feeling of blood, no dark stains coming back on his fingers. Despite this, his wrist burned, and the ‘hand’ that had grabbed him felt leathery and almost as though it were fake. 

Peter stood up and studied his opponent further, making out the peculiar shape of _it_. From a quick glance, it appeared to be human. Most likely wearing a cape of sorts. Dark, possibly black fabric draping over its body and flowing with it’s movements. But then, its face. In the dark, Peter couldn’t make out the darker shadows that should signify its eyes, its nose and mouth. There was a flat surface where its ears should be, no curve at all. The profile of the thing proved to be rounded and without shape.

“What are you?” Peter’s voice strained. He was feeling weaker, the cold seeping into his bones. “WHAT ARE YOU?” He shouted. The figure did not respond, only threw itself back at Peter in another attack. Peter tripped over the bundled tinsel and Christmas lights on the floor, tangled from when he dropped them earlier.

> _“To face unafraid,_
> 
> _The plans that we have made,”_

He shoved himself off the ground and dove under the thing, sliding on his stomach to the other side of the room and bumping into the elevator. _‘_ _That’s right, my web shooters.’_ The elevator doors reminded him. He pushed himself up, wincing when he put pressure on his right wrist, and ran towards the kitchen and through the archway. Peter jumped over the dining room table and knocked a few chairs down, hoping to slow the shadow down. He ran for the staircase that would lead him down to the lower floors. 

Peter tried tugging at the door, the knob not turning. He tried again. And again. “Shit,” he glanced behind him, the figure speeding its way through the dining room. FRIDAY was shut off, which meant all locks and doors had to be unlocked manually through a security card. Peter’s hands shook with adrenaline as he reached for his phone in his pocket, ducking when the shadow jumped to grab him. Peter steadied his phone in his hand, but he was knocked to the floor before he had the chance to do anything. The phone slid into the dining room, its screen lighting up and illuminating the room for a split second.

Light glinted off a metal rod the shadow held. Peter realized it was the firestoker from earlier. The shadow must have picked it off the ground after he dropped it. In a blur of movement, the shadow swung the rod down on Peter, the boy only just moving out of the way in time for the rod to splinter the polished wood floors. Peter scurried to his phone, but lost his balance as he put pressure on his bad wrist once again and sent pain shooting up his arm. Peter cursed and stood up, once again just missing the fatal swing the shadow attempted to aim at him. 

Taking a quick step towards the figure, Peter attempted to punch the thing in its chest. He landed the blow, his super strength pushing the shadow back a few feet. It lost its balance and teetered to the side. As he heard the firestoker skid to the other side of the room, Peter jumped for his phone and ran back to the door of the staircase. He ripped his phone case off to reveal his keycard and a few dollars that were now fluttering to the ground. Peter grabbed the card and shoved it against the door’s scanner. He heard a faint ‘click’ and tugged the door open, moving to pull it shut. 

The door had almost closed completely when Peter noticed something in the way, preventing it from locking shut. The edge of the firestoker had been shoved between the frame and the heavy metal door, keeping it open. “No no no,” Peter kicked at the rod. Long, black, jagged claws curled around the door and began tugging it open, Peter trying to resist its strength. “No!” He huffed. 

Peter’s bones ached. He was getting tired, his limbs weak from the cold. The shadow overpowered him and ripped the door open, Peter deciding it was for the better to turn and begin running down the stairs toward the Medical Wing. He had just reached the last flight of stairs when the thing gave a hard kick to his back, sending Peter flying down the rest of the steps.

With a groan, Peter tried rolling himself over and onto his back, but he couldn’t. He figured when landing he had hit his head. It pounded with an intense pain, his vision unfocused and dark spots dancing in his field of view. He was so, so tired. And cold. In that moment, all Peter wished was to be back home in Queens. 

He wanted to be snuggled up on the couch next to Aunt May and watching _White Christmas_ or _It’s a Wonderful Life_. He yearned to be buried under a pile of warm blankets while the apartment was decorated with glistening lights sheathing almost every surface, ‘Warm Sugar Cookie’ Yankee candles lit in every room. The wonderful smell of pine from their fake, three-foot Christmas tree they bought pine-scented essential oils for sitting in the corner and providing the two of them a sense of holiday cheer.

Mr. Stark was right; He’s just a kid. A kid who wanted to spend Christmas with his aunt and mentor while a glorious, light flurry of snow blanketed New York City in white, not dying at the bottom of a metal stairwell in the entrance to the Avengers Facility Medical Wing.

Peter tried opening his eyes a little more, his body refusing to move. The frigid winter air had settled into his bones, his eyelids heavy and limbs drained of energy. The shadow trudged towards him, claws gripping tighter around the firestoker. It’s clunky boots hit the bottom of the stairs, the figure crouching to study Peter’s helpless form. It helped turn the boy over, so he was now laying on his back. Peter whimpered in response from the soreness of his body, his head pounding.

Just faintly, Peter’s heightened hearing could pick up the skipping record from the living room upstairs.

> _“To face unafraid,_
> 
> _The plans that we have made,”_

The figure stood back up, clutching the rod in both hands and lifting it above his shoulder.

Peter lost consciousness the moment the firestoker made contact with his head.

* * *

_Beep_

_Beep_

_Beep_

_Beep_

Peter shifted, his body screaming at him in protest. Faintly, he could hear the noise of an EKG machine, and a quiet voice speaking in hushed tones. He was so comfortable, so warm and snug. Warm, fluffy blankets hugged his body and tried pulling Peter back into a deep sleep, but he refused.

The world began coming to life around Peter, noises now sharper and louder than they were before. Cracking his eyes open, Peter saw Tony Stark fade into view. His figure was floating towards him. 

“Hey, kiddo. I was just about to leave.” Tony said, sitting down on a chair near Peter’s bed.

“Mmm,” Peter hummed in acknowledgement.

“I know you’re comfortable,” Tony chuckled, “but you gotta start getting up soon, okay? Get your blood flowing. It looks like your inability to thermoregulate is starting to become a bit more than just a mild problem.” Tony stood up and fiddled with the wires attaching Peter to the EKG. “I found you over in Building C. You were a total mess. All cold and shiver-y. Is that a word?”

Peter furrowed his brow. This conversation sounded so familiar… why?

“Anyway, you ended up passing out. Or hibernating. Or whatever. Got Rhodey to help me carry you over here. Turns out,” Tony sighed, glancing down at Peter with an accusatory look. “The heater in your suit was broken! Pete, ya got to tell me when things like that happen, okay? I’m gonna have to program your A.I. to tell me about issues with the suit if you keep hiding these things from me.”

“I-” Peter tried, but Tony cut him off.

“Shit, I’m gonna be late.” Stark cut him off. “I’m still trying to buy the Manhattan tower back from the guys I sold it to. Who knew it would be such a shit show!” He exclaimed. “I really gotta go though. Oh! Also, you might be alone for a bit. The team got called for a mission down in, like, Miami or something.”

Peter must have made a face because Tony rounded back around the bed to put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a steak-out. You’re not missing anything big. But hey, there’s a shitload of Christmas decorations untouched and waiting for you upstairs when you’re feeling up to it. Go to town on that place. I want it to be so cheery up there that it's impossible for Banner to go green on us.” Tony chuckled, smiling down at the kid and swiping the hair covering Peter’s forehead out of the way. In an instant, Tony’s eyes widened and he got closer to inspect Peter’s head. “Jesus kid what the hell happened to your head?”

“What?” Peter croaked.

“Your head! It’s all- How the hell did I miss that when I got you out of your suit?”

“I don’t-”

Tony sighed, “Your aunt is gonna kill me. Thank God you heal quickly.” His watch buzzed. “Shit, now I really _am_ late.” Tony began making his way for the Medbay doors. “Oh, and put those socks on!” He pointed at the bed’s side table. “CNN said there was some crazy bomb cyclone-type blizzard bullshit going on outside, so stay _warm_ _!”_

Peter watched as Tony finally sauntered back out through the automatic Medbay doors, the billionaire answering his phone with a quick, “Yeah, yeah I’m on my way! … Stop worrying you’re stupid little head about it… Yes, I know the saying is ‘pretty’ which is why I said stupid, not ‘pretty’... Hate to break it to ya pal, but-”

Peter shook. What was happening? He glanced over to the side table, his vision spinning as he moved too fast. Blindly reaching out, Peter’s hand searched for his phone. He closed his hand around it, the cool metal burning his numb fingers. Pulling his right hand out from under the blankets to better hold his phone, Peter hissed as pain shot up his arm, his wrist burning. He took a steady hold of his phone, the bright display reading ‘2:28PM’. He clicked open the camera app to see what Mr. Stark was talking about. Turning the front-facing camera on, Peter gingerly moved his hair off his forehead. There, in a harsh, jagged line from the center of his forehead across to his right temple, sat a blood crusted cut that made his head pound. Peter stared in horror, a feeling of regret and weariness that was all too familiar beginning to pool in his gut once more. He sat up.

So… he was alone. He was the only person in all of the Avengers compound’s buildings C and D. But it was okay, because, well… 

Peter Parker enjoyed the solace of being alone.

> _”Walking in a winter wonderland.”_

Outside, a frigid winter storm raged on.

**Author's Note:**

> funfact: I was actually stuck in a bomb-cyclone in New York a few years back. It was wild.  
> also, let me know if you guys would like me to make a part 2 to this? i really like it as a oneshot, but what if i were to finish the song 👀
> 
> anyway, come hmu on tumblr @reaping-mae or leave a comment if you'd like :,<


End file.
